When Harry Met Sally Met Lassiter
by trixietru
Summary: Tag to "The Devil is in the Details and Also in the Upstairs Bedroom". Juliet and Lassiter talk about sex, baybee.


Title: When Harry Met Sally Met Lassiter

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Tag to the episode "The Devil is in the Details and in the Upstairs Bedroom". Juliet and Lassiter talk about sex, baybee.

Pairing: Juliet/Lassiter.

Author's Note: This exists because of a very funny exchange of looks that occurs between Lassiter and Juliet during Shawn's wrap-up scene in this episode, after Gus references _When Harry Met Sally_ and Shawn says that what he learned from the movie was that "women often fake orgasms". I don't know if it was in the script or if it was something the director or actors came up with, but Lassiter gives Juliet a betrayed "is this true?" look, and she kind of shrugs, like "what can I say?". So it seemed apparent to me that he would still be thinking about it later.

"Do women really do that?"

Juliet looked over at her partner sitting in the driver's seat of the car, the sunglasses he was wearing making his expression inscrutable.

"Do women do what?" she asked, although she had a sinking feeling that she knew what he was asking.

"You know," he said, not looking at her. "Fake it. Orgasms."

The word sounded faintly dirty when he said it, probably because she didn't normally have conversations like this with him.

"Sometimes," she said carefully, adding "You were married, Carlton. Surely you know this already."

"How would I know if the whole point of doing it is to trick me?" he asked, agitation plain in his voice.

"You're making it sound more malicious than I think it is in most cases. Usually, I think the women who do that are just trying to make the men they're with feel good about themselves."

"It's deceptive!" Lassiter protested. "It's lying to someone who trusts you!"

"Well," Juliet said slowly, "it's different for women than it is for men. Sometimes, no matter how much you want for it to happen, it's just not going to, and the most expedient thing to do is to pretend that it has."

"Expedient," Lassiter snorted. "Right. Have you ever done that?"

Juliet drew in a breath, though she wasn't sure if she was going to answer the question or yell at him for asking it, but he interrupted her before she could speak.

"Don't answer that! I'm sorry O'Hara, that was completely inappropriate. We'll talk about something else. Sooo…did you see the Dodgers game last night?"

He was blushing slightly and pointedly not looking in her direction. It made something in her chest tighten to see him so out of sorts over this.

"Yes," she blurted out. "I mean, yes, I saw the game last night, but yes to the other thing too."

"But WHY?" he asked, utterly frustrated. "It means that you don't get any satisfaction out of it."

She shrugged. "You can't think of it like that. Sometimes it's enough just to be close to the person you're with."

Now he did look at her, disbelief etched on his face. "Bullshit, O'Hara. Everyone wants orgasms."

She laughed in acknowledgement. "No arguing with that. Why does this bother you so much?"

"Because," he said, "look, we're partners, right? We don't lie to each other about important things that could affect our partnership, do we?"

"No," she agreed. "We don't. But I don't see –"

"A relationship is a partnership too," he said, "and sex is important in a relationship, right?" He didn't wait for her confirmation before continuing, "and faking is like telling a lie. It puts the partners on unequal ground."

She pursed her lips, considering his words. "I can see why you would feel that way, but sometimes –"

"Bullshit," he said again. "If something's not working for one partner, then the other partner should know. You're supposed to have each other's backs, not lie about things that could be fixed. I would hate to think that Lucinda ever faked anything."

There was an odd little flutter in Juliet's stomach at the reminder that he had slept with his previous partner. She fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, but thankfully he didn't seem to notice.

"When I was with Victoria, if I ever felt like she wasn't, uh, getting there, then I would, you know, change my approach."

Juliet felt her face heat up as she tried very hard not to imagine what he meant by that. She reached over and turned on the air conditioner.

"Of course, I don't know Victoria, but I'm sure she, um, appreciated that." She coughed a little to clear her throat, her voice sounding strangled to her own ears. "If you were that considerate of her, there's no reason to assume that she ever faked anything."

He scowled, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "But how do I know?"

"Without asking her? You can't. And I really don't recommend asking her, Carlton."

"No," he conceded glumly, "she probably wouldn't appreciate me asking her something like that at this point. But if I don't know if I'm doing something wrong, then how can I fix it?"

Not having an immediate answer to that, she remained silent. Carlton Lassiter was so firmly labeled in her mind as "Partner: Do Not Touch" that this entire conversation was freaking her out a little, though she didn't normally consider herself especially shy when it came to sex. It was just that she wasn't used to thinking about sex in conjunction with her straight-laced partner, but it was hard to avoid doing so at the moment.

She glanced over at him from the corner of her eye, trying not to be obvious. He was such a fixture in her life that she had long ago stopped noticing that he was an attractive man. A little rough around the edges maybe, and the haircut he was currently sporting did him no favors, but the eyes, the shoulders, the whole tall-dark-and-handsome package…she could see how a woman – not her, of course, a hypothetical woman – would find him appealing. And, she assured herself, just because she had thought the word "package" didn't mean she was thinking about anything unseemly, even if she could look at his proportions and make some educated guesses.

Despite the air conditioning, her palms were sweating. Maybe she was coming down with something.

Even his complete tactlessness might be taken as a kind of forthrightness that could be alluring in some cases. A woman involved with Lassiter would always know where she stood with him. And while he could be gruff, she had witnessed him many times over the years being surprisingly sweet. Gentle, even.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. "You don't have to answer that," he added hastily.

She didn't really mind, since it diverted her from the far too distracting path her too vivid imagination had been on. "Oh, you know, once I remember it was because I had a big exam the next day and I just wanted to go to sleep. And a couple of times when I had cases that were on my mind."

"Wouldn't it be easier to say you're not in the mood? Take a raincheck for later?"

"Not always," she said, shaking her head. "I think of it as compromising."

"But you don't get anything out of it!"

"I get the satisfaction of knowing that I made my boyfriend happy."

He glared at her. "That's stupid, O'Hara. Don't ever lie to me because you think it will make me happy."

She glared back. "I don't think you have to worry about that, Carlton."

He refocused his attention on the road. "I'll never understand women," he sighed. "You all make everything so hard on yourselves."

"Hey," she snapped, "if we do, it's only because men drive us to it. Some guys turn into big babies if they don't get what they want, and it's easier to just give in to them. And some guys need their ego stroked."

"What the hell are you doing with jerks like that in the first place?" he demanded, and she refrained from pointing out that at least in a professional capacity, he occasionally needed his ego stroked as well, though she certainly had no idea if that pertained to more personal matters.

She ignored his question about the jerks – guys – she dated and redirected the conversation back to where it had started. "Look, I know you hate any kind of deception, and I hope the next woman that you're involved with is always as honest with you as you want her to be, but you have to accept that this is something that happens occasionally."

He didn't reply immediately, his lips tight and his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. Juliet relaxed marginally, thinking that maybe the conversation was over.

"It's just so unnecessary!" he burst out, and she tensed again. "Even if you…the woman, I mean, even if she's not comfortable saying what's working for her, a guy should still be able to figure it out."

"Maybe it's not that easy for some guys," she suggested.

"It's like being a good detective, you know?" he said, sounding thoughtful now. "It's about following the clues, paying attention to her breathing and her body language and figuring out what she likes. Taking the time to really study her reactions and respond to that. How she likes to be kissed provides a lot of evidence. Does she like slow, soft kisses, or does she like it hard and intense? And then there's her mood before you even get started. Is she in the mood for romantic or rough?"

A warm flush of heat had started in Juliet's belly when he was talking about kissing and seemed to work its way down. She stared resolutely out the window, not daring to look in her partner's direction lest he figure out exactly what she was in the mood for at the moment. And yet she couldn't seem to stop herself from speaking.

"You make it sound so simple, but don't you really have to be in tune with the other person to be able to judge things like moods? I mean, what if she secretly wants to, I don't know, handcuff you to the bed, but she doesn't know how to say it? Or what if she hasn't even acknowledged to herself that what she wants is you – I mean, him, the guy – to take her by surprise and screw her senseless on the kitchen table, or, or, her desk or something?"

"Well," he said hoarsely (maybe he was coming down with something too, she thought crazily, most definitely not looking at him now because she had a feeling she might die of embarrassment if she did) "that's where being a good detective comes in. Deducing when she wants to be on top of the um, situation, and when she wants someone else to take charge."

"Right," she agreed, breathlessly, trying desperately not to imagine what it would feel like to be on top of his, um, situation. "Oh look, we're at the station. I have to go and uh…"

"I need to make a phone call," he said brusquely, and she peeked over at him long enough to see that he looked as flushed as she felt, and also that he was making no move to pull his phone out of his pocket, "so I'm going to stay out here for a few minutes."

"Okay," she squeaked, and quickly exited the car.

As she hurried up the steps into the building, composing herself from flustered Juliet back into professional Detective O'Hara, she reflected that this partners business was not for the faint of heart.


End file.
